


In the Fullness of Time

by abigail89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Drama, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/pseuds/abigail89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Harry and Severus decide to commit to each other, issues arise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Fullness of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/Thanks: Many, many thanks to bethbethbeth and ziasudra_fics for their excellent and most appreciated assistance. Thanks to my flist for letting me whine.
> 
> Written for the 2006 Snarry Games on LJ, Team Romance; the prompt _Benediction_. Since this was written before the end of canon, and since Snape, Lupin, and Tonks are alive here, this is most definitely AU. 
> 
> Citations: Harry’s song is “When Green Eyes Turn Blue” by Elvis Costello from the album _North_. © 2003 Universal Classics Group; Deutche Grammaphone Records.  
>   
>  "Sonnet #116" by William Shakespeare. From www.poetry.com Public domain.  
>   
> Vows adapted from _A New Zealand Prayer Book: The Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia._ ©1989

*~*  


“You okay?”

Harry Potter stared nervously at his best mate’s face. It was growing redder and more contorted by the second, as if it were made of magically coloured rubber. Harry sighed. He knew the signs of Ron preparing to go spare. First, his face would go to red, then white, then purple. His cheeks would colour so red that Harry swore he could feel the heat radiating off of them from across the table. His mouth opened, then shut; his nose scrunched up three or four times, and he blinked his eyes rapidly. Sometimes, everything happened at once. Clearly, Ron Weasley’s mind had gone into rapid-fire processing.

Harry knew the look. He had seen it aimed specifically at him a couple of times before. The first time it happened, Harry had told Ron that yes, he was in fact involved with Draco Malfoy, and that Malfoy wasn’t too bad, all things considered. Which meant that yes, he did in fact prefer guys to girls in the sexual sense and that, no, it didn’t mean that he was going to make a play for Ron’s arse. Which he had had quite a liking for, but he knew better than to do something like that. THAT was when Ron did the red rubber face act. Not over the fact that Harry was gay, but that he wasn’t going to suggest that he and Ron get together. Harry still had never figured out why that mattered to Ron, who was most decidedly straight.

The second time it occurred was when Harry told him that he was involved with Severus Snape. Of course, it may have had more to do with the fact that Ron had walked in on them in their old bedroom, which was in fact Severus’s new bedroom at number 12, Grimmauld Place. Ron had dropped the bottles of butterbeer, which shattered on the hard wood floor, creating confusion and caused a number of hexes to be thrown his way courtesy of an ever-paranoid Severus; the incident put Ron off from speaking to Harry for the better part of a week. Even then, after Harry had cornered Ron to explain his side of things—yes, Severus really did live in the old Black house, which was now Harry’s house, and which he could do whatever he wanted with and invite whoever he wanted to live there—Ron continued to avoid any unnecessary contact with him, and certainly, he stopped popping into the house at will like he used to. And since Severus Snape really didn’t actually murder Albus Dumbledore, as he was carrying out a reluctantly agreed upon promise the he, Severus, was talked into making (and everyone knew Albus Dumbledore always got what he wanted when he _really_ wanted something), Harry had no reason not to believe him or trust him, especially after he really and truly did assist in bringing down Voldemort in the end. And yes, he, Harry, really was in fact seeing Snape, Severus, whatever—and he was seeing him _like that_ , and that he really had not lost his fucking mind.

It was the only time that Harry had heard Ron utter the words, “I think I’d prefer to see you with Malfoy.”

“You okay?”

Ron exhaled and inhaled again slowly. Harry watched carefully. Ron’s face slowly uncontorted, but his cheeks still retained a rather sexy blush. “Tonks taught me about meditation,” Ron explained, his eyes closed. He breathed in again. “She says that it’s not terribly good for my heart if I react first to bad news.”

“Is this bad news?”

“Bloody, fucking hell, Harry!” Ron shouted, then stopped himself, and inhaled, this time more quickly. “It’s not exactly shout-it-from-the-rooftops happy news.”

“Well, not for you, anyway,” Harry said neutrally, rising from his chair. “Look, if this is a bad time, I’ll just—”

“No, no.” Ron motioned for him to sit. “No, there’s never a good time to hear this. I just need a moment to process it.”

“It’s been ten minutes, Ron,” Harry said, an edge creeping into his voice.

At that moment, a door slammed, followed by the sound of a chair scraping along the floor, a bang, and a “Dammit!”

“Sounds like Tonks is home,” Ron said in relief. He rose and went to sort her out.

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks greeted him warmly. She bent over and kissed him on top of his mop. “Say, did you get a haircut or something?”

Before Harry could answer, Ron returned carrying several bags, one of which was dripping. “Be back in a sec,” he muttered. “Where the hell is my wand?”

Tonks dropped into the chair next to Harry, and rubbed her left shin. “I always miss that chair in the entryway,” she said sheepishly. “So, did ya tell him?”

“Yeah, and it hasn’t been exactly…”

“Wait!” Ron came skidding back into the dining room. “Wait just a minute. She knew about this before ME?”

“Ron, this isn’t a contest,” Harry said, vexed. “Yes, I told Tonks because she happened to see us out purchasing things for the house.”

“And I can tell you that was quite a sight to behold, seeing Severus Snape in all his formal black glory in Towler’s Bed and Linen Shoppe,” Tonks laughed, slapping Harry’s back. “Imagine him against all those white sheets and towels. He really did look like a giant…”

“Thanks, Tonks,” Harry said hastily, not wishing to recall the experience that ended in Harry having to pull Severus from the store and away from the loudly exclaiming Tonks, which nearly ended in her being on the receiving end of a nasty hex.

Ron held up his hands. “I can’t listen to any more. Look, I’ll work on this. I really will, mate. ‘Cause it’s you, you know? Just … don’t talk about it.” With that, he left the room. Harry heard the door to the refrigerator slam and a metal bottle cap hit the floor.

“He’ll be all right, Harry, don’t you worry none.” Tonks patted his hand again. “He’s still trying to get over the fact that you’re having sex with Severus Snape. Fred explained to him one night how you blokes ‘do it’.” Harry groaned as his head dropped onto the dining table. “Never seen his face go three different colours so fast. I thought only we Metamorphs could do that.”

*~*

“WHAT!?”

Severus Snape was sitting in the Headmistress’s office at Hogwarts School, hands folded neatly in his lap. He slowly uncurled his right hand, relaxing each muscle, and casually examined the clipped, clean fingernails. As the shout echoed around the room, Severus began to mentally inventory the contents of the herb cabinet in his lab alphabetically, just to make him concentrate harder: _aconite, alihotsy, asphodel, belladonna, bubotuber pus—Hmm, I need a fresh supply—daisy roots, cherry skin …_  


  


“Severus, aren’t you two rushing things just a bit?” Remus Lupin asked, exasperation evident in his voice. “Isn’t Harry too young to make this sort of decision?”

“And when, in your estimation, should Harry be permitted to make a decision about his life?” Severus asked. “I agree that 25 is a bit young to decide to take a life partner, but then again, I also believe 25 is too young to be teaching defensive magic at Hogwarts. Yet, that is precisely what he’s doing. I believe Minerva was in her mid-twenties when she began her teaching tenure. I was even younger, though no one else could match my skills in potions. Ever.” He leveled a sneering glare.

Minerva McGonagall smiled faintly at him, but remained silent. _Ten points to Slytherin._

“Come now, Severus, that is not the point. The fact is that I think you’re pushing him to make this decision.”

“Really?” Severus raised an eyebrow. “And just who has told you this? Did Harry? No, I don’t believe he did, because the two of you have never had a substantive conversation on the subject, have you? Forgive me, but I am inclined to believe my partner’s opinion on the matter over yours. Besides,” he looked at his nails with disinterest, “aren’t you currently living with Hermione Granger? Don’t tell me that you aren’t planning to make an honest women of her? How old is she, Lupin? She’s certainly too young to be a professor at this school as well.” _And in your bed,_ he added mentally.

 _I do believe I must award another twenty points and a hearty ‘Touché!’ to Severus._ Minerva steepled her hands in front of her mouth to hide the smile.

“Severus, it isn’t that he’s too young. It’s not even that I object, really—“

“Liar! ” Severus hissed. “You have objected from the moment Harry told you, or rather, Ronald Weasley blurted it out at a family dinner. You were angry that Harry didn’t tell you first.” He snorted. “How typical. You think you have a special claim on him, yet you do not even give him the courtesy to make his own decisions, even in regard to his personal life.”

“That’s not true—“

Severus stood, and bore down on Remus. “For some strange reason, Harry still regards you with great affection and respect. And not once have you ever shown him support when you learned of our relationship. He is a grown man, one far older than his chronological years.”

“But—”

“I can almost forgive the other narrow-minded fools in the Wizarding world for not accepting our relationship.” Severus’s eyes narrowed. “But you—you, who cannot see beyond the end of your own sanctimonious and petty nose, are the worst of the worse.”

Severus stopped, breathing hard—once. Twice. “I apologize, Minerva, for my outburst. I assume that we can … count on seeing you there, as you have graciously communicated before.” He inclined his head in respect to the older women. “I bid you a good day.”

Before she could reply, Severus Snape whirled about with a flourish, his great robe billowing.

Remus jumped as the door to the office slammed loudly.

“Well that certainly went well,” Minerva McGonagall said dryly. She then turned to a severe look upon her companion. “Remus, really. It’s been over two years. They’ve obviously buried the past. Why can’t you?

“Anything I could say would make me sound shallow and petulant,” Remus admitted. “Can I just say that I think it’s too soon for them to be making this kind of decision?”

“When do you think they should do this? Next year? In ten years?” Minerva McGongall had her own thoughts concerning the relationship of Severus and Harry, but the only incontrovertible piece of evidence that trumped everything was that Harry appeared to be happy and whole for the first time in the fifteen years she had known him. “Don’t you think it’s time you accept the fact that Harry has grown up and allow him to make a decision concerning his own life?”

“Oh, Minerva, it’s not that. Of course I know Harry is an adult, a remarkable one at that. He’s healthy and well adjusted, thank God. It pains me to not have his confidence like I once did, but I accept that as a … progression of our relationship.” He struggled with the memories and the truth of that admission. “I fear that he simply doesn’t understand what this will do to his reputation and his career.”

Minerva’s eyebrows rose high above her glasses. “Like associating with Muggles and werewolves and sons of former Death Eaters have done so much for him,” she practically snorted.

Remus quickly realized the absurdity of his comment, and flushed. “Yes. Well…”

She rose. “Stay here if you like. I now have to go chastise my staff for being insufferably rude to their former colleague."

“Seems I’m not the only one who has serious reservations about this union.”

“Reservations are one thing. Open hostility is quite another, but rudeness, well…that is something I do not tolerate under any circumstance. If you please.”

And with that, she left the room, closing the door silently.

Remus heard a sigh above him. “You know, my dear boy, not even I could disagree of Minerva McGonagall. The woman has smarts—and common sense—in spades.”

“Oh, Albus,” Remus said sadly, “I have really made a mess of things with Harry.”

“I suspect,” portrait-Albus Dumbledore said, “that where Harry is concerned, the door is never completely closed. It may be that you only need to make the first move to nudge it open again.” Even in oil, the blue eyes twinkled.  


*~*  
_  
“This is your fault, Padfoot.”_

_“My fault? How the fuck is this MY fault?” Sirius’s voice rose a notch._

_“YOU were supposed to take care of him, you know.” James glared at him._

_“Hey, if you haven’t realized, you big dead git, I’ve been dead for seven years. And before that I was a bit penned up. I haven’t exactly been in his life,” Sirius huffed. “Last time I checked, he couldn’t stand the guy. They couldn’t stand each other.”_

_“Well, they certainly can ‘stand’ each other now,” Even dead, James Potter could build up a head of indignant steam. “Why the hell didn’t Moony intervene? Why didn’t he break it up before it got to this point?”_

_“Beats me. Moony always did have a problem with confrontation. Let’s go haunt him.”_

_James glared at him again. Another voice interrupted their ridiculous argument. “Boys, I’m afraid there’s exactly nothing you can do to change this course of the living, no matter how vehemently you argue,” Lily said quietly. “Besides, can you think of a more appropriate champion for our son, all things considered?”_

_“How can you even suggest—It’s outrageous, Lily!” James exclaimed. “It’s bad enough my line dies with Harry---Not that his being gay is a tragedy, mind. I’m not implying that I’m upset or anything of the sort. But…he’s with Severus Snape for the love of Merlin!_

_“What galls you more, James?” Lily addressed him with a steely gaze. “That he’s with Severus or that he’s with Snivellus, ex-Death Eater and greasy git?”_

_“Is there a difference?” Sirius cut in. “In my mind, it doesn’t matter.”_

_“It does, especially to Harry. James, we saw what Severus did. We saw him sacrifice himself time and time again. We saw him take on half of Voldemort’s inner circle personally that final day. At great personal sacrifice, too. No, James. Harry is with the man he is meant to be with. Let it go.”_

_“Lily, how can you say that? It’s an outrage. It’s--it’s monstrous! It’s…it just can’t be allowed!.”_  
  
  
*~*  


Harry Apparated into the rear garden and entered the house at Grimmauld Place through the back door. Several crates of dishes stood in the middle of the floor; a large iron cooking pot and lid lay on the counter. Several smaller boxes of spices and other dry goods sat on the small breakfast table.

As he continued into the house, signs of abandoned moving-out activities presented themselves. _Crickey. At this rate he’ll never get moved out,_ Harry thought. He entered the main hall, where a large burnt spot on the wall marked the place where the screeching portrait of the late Walpurga Black once hung, spewing filth and invectives at anyone who dared raise her ire. Remus blasted it off one night in a fit of outrage and grief, and Harry had not seen fit to repair the black smudge. Remus. The very thought of the man he considered his surrogate godfather and closest person he had to a parent filled him with sadness and anger. The stiff formality that had marked Remus’s recent behaviour towards him, and the palpable hostility he exuded towards Severus, not only surprised Harry but cut him to the core. Many times Harry had tried to draw the reasons out of him, but the werewolf steadfastly remained silent or dodged the question entirely. Even Hermione could not seem to dig the truth out of Remus. And she had, she assured Harry, tried.

Harry found Severus sitting in the lounge, staring into a tumbler. The older man obviously had not heard Harry enter the room nor did he acknowledge his presence when he dropped onto the sofa next to him. For several minutes neither spoke. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed once, indicating the half hour, but of which hour, they did not have any idea.

Severus took a long, slow pull on the drink and handed the glass to Harry. It was empty, so Harry rose and walked to the cabinet to refill it; the bottle, though, was empty as well.

“How much have you had to drink?” Harry asked quietly.

“Not enough.”

Harry set the glass down carefully, leaning into the cabinet and dropping his head.

“I take it your visits went about as well as mine.”

Harry turned at the dry voice of his lover. “Well, we knew that people, even those who we believed to be our friends, would hardly understand or even approve.” He shrugged. “But Christ, besides Ron—and the Weasleys and Hermione, of course—only Neville agreed to be there. I thought Dean and Seamus would have put school behind them. No one else outside Gryffindor would come, either. You really did a number of them when you were still teaching,” he finished with a sad smile.

Severus snorted. “It seems a number of my former colleagues were equally unforgiving. Your contemporaries, their reactions I can understand. But these people are now your colleagues. How they can simply—just….” He stopped and dropped his head to stare at his hands, upturned as if in supplication.

“After all I have done,” he said softly, angrily. “After all the…sacrifices I made during the war. It is still not enough for some. I gave them my life, and yet they want another pound of my flesh. I pledged them my honour, and they will not recognise what it cost me. I sacrificed my dignity, and yet they will not permit me the only thing I desire—the freedom to live my life as a wizard and as a man.”

Harry was stunned. Never had Severus said anything like this to him before. Yes, Severus had sacrificed everything—his life, his honour, his dignity, his love for Albus Dumbledore—and still the Wizarding world refused to restore those basic rights to him. It was a small miracle that he walked free, let alone that he was allowed to continue working in the Wizarding world. The Caligate Institute at least recognised genius when they saw it, and paid Severus, grudgingly, what he deserved as a researcher in their Potions division. But he bore the accusations—spoken and non—with silence and his dedication to researching poison antidotes and spell damage reversals was only stingily recognised by the wider community.

Harry returned to sit next to his lover; Severus continued to look at his hands. Within the circle of their shared silence, Severus slowly, gently, carefully laid his head on Harry’s shoulder and sighed.

Harry stopped breathing. They were not demonstrative people, even in the privacy of their home. A brush of fingers, a scarce touching of knees, a whisper into the other’s ear—for them to even sit beside each other in public was the only acknowledgement of a relationship between them. As a couple they touched only in the sealed and warded space of their bedroom and only then, for sex. For Severus to show this much, to even show a need for—what? Comfort?—was a revelation.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Severus said in a low voice. “Perhaps you should…”

“No,” Harry said quietly. Vehemently. “No, don’t you even suggest it.”

“I’ve ruined everything for—”

“No,” Harry hissed, “Don’t ever say that.” He reached for Severus’s hand and boldly interlaced their fingers. “We knew this wasn’t going to be easily received. They’ve barely even accepted you back into the Wizarding world. And we haven’t given them much time to get used to the idea of you in my life, let alone a permanent _us_.”

Harry said all of this with quiet fierceness, barely moving his body as he spoke. The tickling of Severus’s silken strands against his cheek was too rare, too fantastic to want it to end, but the continued silence and palpable despair from his mate required more drastic contact.

“Look at me,” Harry commanded. Severus, startled, raised his head, as Harry turned to face him, their hands still joined.

“For the first time in my life it seems, I have been completely free to do something just for myself. I’ve always had to do what other people told me. First the Dursleys bullied me into being a virtual house-elf. Then teachers always had a claim on me. Hermione told me when to do my homework, and Ron--well, Ron never made me actually do anything, but still.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Then it was the Order, and always, _always_ there was that damn Prophecy. And then came the years of avoiding the press, avoiding other wizards, avoiding whatever claims everyone put on me, and then the school year with its set schedule and dates and meetings and parents and other professors. And then, going out with women that I didn’t want to go out with in the first place. And then when I finally admitted I wanted to be with men, I had to go out with the ‘right’ sort. When all I really wanted to was to be with the one person who didn’t need or want anything from me at all. And I fell in love with you.” That elicited a small reaction from Severus—not quite a smile but an untightening of the grim frown. “And it felt—feels—good. It feels right. It is right.”

Harry checked to see if anything he had just said was getting through. “We anticipated this. I didn’t care then, and I certainly don’t care now. All I’ve ever wanted was to be loved completely, and I know that you do. I can’t tell you what a surprise it all still is to me sometimes.”

That did cause Severus to smile, just barely, and he said, “Imagine my surprise to find you were not an annoying brat anymore.”

Harry chuckled, delighted that Severus seemed to be thawing out ever so slightly. “Imagine my surprise when you didn’t hex me into the next century when I offered to buy you a drink. I think everyone at the Hog’s Head was waiting for the hexing to start.”

“How about when you invited me to dinner?” Severus said, clearly warming up. “And that you could actually cook.”

“I sweated for three days over the menu, you know,” Harry returned, relieved that retelling their history seemed to be safe territory.

“And imagine my surprise that it was edible.”

“No doubt I’ve proved to you by now that my prowess in the kitchen then wasn’t a fluke.”

“Hmm. You are adequate.”

“Hey. Who was complaining not three nights ago about having to lose a half stone because of my treacle tart?”

“You have an appalling need to fill me with sweets.”

“Haven’t heard you complain.”

“What a surprise.”

The two shared a quiet laugh together. Then, the silence returned, but instead of despair the air was one of comfortable companionship. Severus held up their joined hands, examining them closely; he turned them, so that Harry’s hand was to him, and—he brought it to his lips. Once again, Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

Severus either didn’t notice or deliberately ignored the gobsmacked look on Harry’s face. “Harry, you know how I … feel about you,” Severus said haltingly, squeezing their hands again. “And you know I’ll never leave you. But why—why are we—don’t you think we’re rushing it just—”

“No. Absolutely not. I want this,” Harry said. “I want to do this with you. I’ll never leave you either, but it just is the right thing to do at this time.”

Impetuously, Harry leaned in and kissed Severus fully on the lips. Severus hesitated for a split second, surprised by the contact. Harry thought he might pull back, but when he opened willingly and quite forcefully, Harry was delighted. Then Severus shifted closer, sliding a hand around the back of Harry’s neck, his cool, slender fingers clutching at the unruly locks. Harry took his touch as an invitation, and he in turn lightly felt for Severus’s waist. It wasn’t that they had never kissed openly as they were—God, no! Severus could kiss as possessively and hungrily as any lover. But the moments were rare, and Harry needed to feel close to him, just as he felt Severus needed to feel close to him. Harry pulled Severus closer, so close they were chest to chest. The kiss deepened, deepened, deepened, and ignited small fires in every one of Harry’s cells.

Harry was so lost in the wet, hot, sweet taste of his lover’s mouth, a mouth from which came biting snark and soft declarations; a mouth capable of cutting an enemy deeply with words and pulling so powerfully on Harry’s cock that he felt it would pull his very soul out through the tip. A moan cut into Harry’s foggy musings about the wonderful contradictions of Severus’s mouth. _My god, was that him?_ he wondered. Harry decided to test it by diving even deeper into that wondrous sweetness and sliding his hand up Severus’s chest. Another rumbling moan issued forth. _Oh, yes. So good._ He started to withdraw his tongue, but that only provided Severus with the opportunity to plummet further into Harry’s mouth. And with it, another moan.

Oh, yes. Harry could definitely get used to this kind of kissing and the moaning.

As with all good things, the kiss ended, with Severus replacing it with a lingering, slow lick to Harry’s lips. Feeling the breath upon his lips was heavenly, and with regret Harry opened his eyes, finding Severus’s heavy dark ones on him. “What?” Harry inquired with a silly, lopsided grin.

“You,” Severus replied seriously. “I am constantly amazed. Mind” — He touched Harry’s face gently — “I still think you utterly foolish to have chosen me.“

“Don’t—”

Severus held up the finger that had been caressing his cheek. “But I am pleased that you did.”

“Just pleased?” Harry kissed the tip of the offered finger.

“Mmmm—very pleased.”

“Very pleased, huh?”

Severus bowed his head. “I am very happy.”

“It’s okay to admit that, you know,” Harry said, his heart filling with joy. “I’m very happy you’ve taken me into your life. Don’t” — he pressed his forehead to Severus’s — “say that I’ll regret this one day. I won’t. Believe it when I say I would not trade one day with you for a lifetime with anyone else.”

“What about that time I hexed you knocking over a phial of dragon’s blood?” Severus raised an eyebrow.

Harry winced at the memory. “Okay, maybe _that_ day, but seriously,” he said and squeezed Severus’s hands, “this has—you have made me look forward to living, and to living with you officially.”

Severus sighed. “Which brings us back to today’s activities.”

“Ah, the commitment contract fulfillment. Where do I sign?” He stood, and crossed to the writing desk to rummage around for a quill. “Yes, I want to do it. I know you do even though you insist otherwise. I’m not too young. I’m not rushing into it. Ah-ha!” He held up the hawk feather quill and a pot of black ink. “I’m not throwing my chances away. I’m not being foolish. Or stupid. Or short-sighted.” He ticked off the last statements on his fingers. “Have I covered them all?”

He sat back down beside Severus as the older man extracted the parchment from his robes, and looked up at him in earnest. “I want this. With you. Now. Okay?”

“Stubborn Gryffindor.”

“Wibbling Slytherin.”

“Foolish boy.”

“Silly man.”

Falling into familiar banter calmed them, and they lapsed into comfortable silence. The hall clock bonged five times.

“ _Wibbling?_ ” Severus snickered.

“Best I could do in the moment,” Harry said in defence. “My students use it all the time.”

“Absolutely appalling.”

“You know you love it.”

The parchment outlining the conditions of the ancient custom of committing their lives and fortunes to each other shone in Minerva McGonagall’s copperplate penmanship. She would serve as their executrix and the one who would seal their ultimate fate exactly one month from the day of their validating the document. Harry signed his name with a flourish and handed the quill to Severus, who added his with neat precision. Together, they tapped the document with their wands, and it rolled up tightly, sealing itself with a wisp of sparks.

“Well, that is that,” Severus said.

“Excellent.” Harry turned and captured Severus’s mouth in another kiss.

If the kiss earlier had been slow and passionate, this one was quite the opposite—hard, hot, demanding. They clutched at each other with tight hands and pulled each other close in fervent ardor.

Parting, and panting slightly, Harry laid his hand on Severus’s chest. “Can I suggest that we not send that contract until after we have one last shag?”

“You know as well as I that our fate was sealed once we signed it,” Severus returned, as he kissed Harry’s palm.

“I’m beginning to regret agreeing to that purification part.” Harry’s eyes glazed slightly when Severus sucked gently on the pulse point in his neck. “Do you really think we can go an entire month without sex, especially when you’re doing that to me?” he whinged.

“You’ve gone without sex that long before.” Another lick.

“Yes, well, that was before I was in love, before you were in my life, and before I knew how glorious it could be.” Another whimper.

“You were the one who wished to observe the ancient Wizarding customs.”

“Can we switch it back to the modern version?” Harry squirmed, his arousal now causing him some discomfort. “Like, right now?”

“More like the shag-at-will version?”

“That works, too.”

“Really?”

Harry paused. Hormones played havoc with his thought processes. Through the haze, he recalled that it was his idea to use the most ancient of commitment contracts, and that he thought it would be a good immersion in a part of heritage that he had never explored before. Severus had told him of the demands of such a contract, including the purification of each, which required them to abstain from sex, even self-gratification, for one lunar cycle.

“Okay. Fine,” he grumbled. “The only thing that’ll keep me going through this is knowing you’ll be just as pent up as I will be.” He moved away from Severus’s embrace, and gave his insistent member a quick rub.

“Remember, no self-pleasure is allowed. I have, fortunately, mastered my hormones. They no longer control me as they do you it appears.” Severus held back a wicked smile.

“Yeah, tell me about how well you’re mastering things at the end.” Harry fell back into the sofa and crossed his arms across his chest.

“You shall experience that mastery in one month,” Severus said into his ear. “And it will be magnificent.”

“Tease. Brutal tease.”

Severus rose, adjusting his robes (and himself, Harry noted with a mental snigger), and gathered up his cloak and the offending document. “We must part company now. For the next twenty-eight days we cannot see each other unless in the presence of other people, particularly those who are to participate in our pledging.”

“Which means you have to get used to my friends. I already like Malfoy. Mostly. Some days.”

“More than that, from what I recall.”

“Nope, that’s all over,” Harry said as brightly as he could at the mention of his former lover. “I tolerate him. Christ, he can be the most self-absorbed git.”

“I’m sure he can say equally complimentary things about you as well.”

“I’m pretty sure he can’t.”

Severus called to a large barn owl sitting outside the door. “I’ll just send this along then, shall I?”

*~*

Ron smiled bravely and chanted mentally: _He’s not my teacher. He’s not my teacher. He’s not my teacher._ “I reckon now that you’re going to be Harry’s…umm, significant other, you might try calling me Ron.” He took a huge bite of the hamburger, the juice from the tomato and pickles dripped off the sides of his hands and onto the plate.

Severus looked at Ron with something between amusement and mild contempt. “For some reason I do not believe I am inclined to do so, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron rolled his eyes, and swallowed the food, wiping his mouth with a tattered paper serviette. “Alright. How about we meet halfway? You can call me Ronald. My mum and Tonks call me that when I’m in big trouble.”

Severus raised an eyebrow and allowed himself a small grin. An evil one. “I suppose that will do. Especially if it will remind you of most unpleasant things. You may, however, call me Master Snape.”

“Severus, come on,” Harry protested, as Ron’s face flushed red. Harry saw the contorted rubber look coming. “Ron’s trying. Why can’t you? I want us to all spend more time together now that we’ve decided to be more public.”

He glanced at Ron, and tossed off the rest of his pint. “Very well. You may call me Severus, but only Severus. And only in private. And only said quietly. But, take care and do not wear it out—Ronald.”

“Fine—Severus. Freshen your drink?”

“That would be most kind. Ronald.” And he finished it with a sneer.

“It would be my privilege. Severus.” Ron got up and headed for the bar.

Harry laid his head on the table. “This is going to be long and hard, isn’t it?”

“Only because you requested it.”

*~*

“God, Potter, can’t you wear something that didn’t look like a dog slept on it?”

Draco Malfoy sat dressed impeccably in dark robes and a white silk tie. In July. And without a drop of sweat anywhere on his perfect face under his perfectly coiffed hair. Harry hated him.

“Sorry, Malfoy. If I don’t meet your fashion specifications, you can just—”

“Ah, ah,” Severus warned quietly. “You are to get along.”

"I can get along. I’m being reasonable,” Harry protested, taking a bite of the petit fore from the plate before him. “It’s hot, and we’re outside. And my cooling charm has failed three times.”

“Not my fault you can’t even conjure a decent cooling spell on your own clothing, which still looks like a dog slept on them.” Draco sipped from a bone white china cup, his pinky crooked at the appropriate angle. Harry didn’t see how that was comfortable. He decided to poke his straight out, just to see if it pissed off their host.

“Well, one did. I laid this out last night, and Hermione and Remus’s dog spent the night in my rooms.” Severus raised an eyebrow. “I’m keeping him while she’s in France, and he’s recovering. Full moon was last night.” He shot Severus a “Not now, later” look, and continued, “Anyway, so which blessing are you giving us during the pledging?”

“I’ve thought about giving the ‘fortune’ one, since I clearly know about that,” Draco said. “But I’m still not sure.”

“Please do remember that Minerva would like to know by next week so that she can coordinate with the others,” Severus reminded him. “It is one of the requirements.”

“Yes, I know. So how’s the whole ‘no sex’ thing working for you, Potter?” Malfoy added with a wicked grin. “As I recall, you were quite the—”

“Everything’s fine, Malfoy,” Harry said hastily. “No need to bring anything like that up.”

“Why not, Potter? Not confessed all our secrets to your intended? Told him how many times we would shag in—"

“I’m surprised you are the kiss and tell type, Draco,” Severus cut in smoothly. “Even I haven’t told Harry everything about my past sexual exploits.”

“As you wish,” Draco said, conceding to his former head of house. He leaned over and whispered into Severus’s ear, “So that means Harry knows nothing about us?”

Severus was so startled that he nearly dropped his cup. “Didn’t think so,” Draco said, smirking.  
  


*~*

Harry was trying to keep up with Hermione’s rapid-fire questions and comments. “I think it’s perfectly romantic that you’ve agreed to the ancient customs. Did you know that the version you chose was first written in the fourth century? The two wizards who first did it were—”

Harry noted that Severus was pinching the bridge of his nose. He had come a long way to accepting Hermione’s insistent curiosity, and had developed grudging respect for her thorough research skills and prodigious knowledge. However, he had limits…

“It’s supposed to heighten the awareness of the magic performed during the ceremony.” Harry had missed when she switched topics. “The sex afterwards is said to be absolutely mind-blowing.”

Did she just say—? She did, and Severus leveled a steady glare on her. “Uh, Hermione. Can we talk about something else?” Harry said, laying a hand on hers. “And could you keep it down? It’s not that I’m not happy about the whole thing, but you know, your voice tends to get a little loud when you’re in ‘lecture mode’.” He smiled at her, and glanced around trying to determine who may have heard the sex part. Even patrons in the Leaky Cauldron had their limits at lunchtime.

He lowered his voice. “And it’s really unfair to talk about sex when we’re not getting any.”

She stared at him, the impact of his words sinking in. “Oh, Harry. Severus, I’m sorry,” she said, and then smiled at them both, blushing. “I am so sorry. That was really quite rude of me.”

“It’s okay. Really,” Harry replied. “So, um … how’s Remus doing?”

“He’s good. He’s really busy with his activities with the Magical Creatures Foundation.” Hermione gave him a look. “And he’s been doing some soul searching lately. I know—he’s trying to resolve his … issues with your relationship with Severus.” She looked at Severus, who was now staring at her. “Look, I know there are some difficulties that even I’m not aware of, things that were said between the two of you. He refuses to discuss them, and that’s fine, but —” And here, she addressed Severus directly — “he says you won’t talk to him, Severus. I think you really need to before next week.”

Severus rose, and without a word, strode away. He opened the door to the back alley of the Cauldron and stepped outside.

“I think you hit a nerve, Hermione,” Harry said, amazed.

*~*  
_  
“Bring back memories, eh, Prongs?”_

_“Shut it, you.”_

_“Oh, now, James. It wasn’t all bad, was it? Hermione is correct. The sex was mind-blowing.”_

_“Lily!”_

_“And it was rather sweet how you had to court me in public, and only on the strength of your personality. Or, lack thereof. You really did rise to the occasion, my love. Now, Severus Snape is courting our son.”_

_“If I could, I’d be retching right now.”_

_“Greasy bastard.”_

_“Boys, I believe it is time that bygones should be bygones,” came a patient voice from behind them._

_“Headmaster!”_

_“Albus!”_

_“I realize that it is rather impossible for you to grow, as you are in the great beyond. However, it is not impossible for you change your minds,” he said, a twinkle evident in his blue eyes._

_“Albus,” said Lily. “I didn’t think you could come to this place with us.”_

_“Oh, yes, it’s one of the perks of the Headmaster’s position. One of the reasons why I signed on for the job, to be able eventually to be both a portrait and in this place beyond.”_

_“So have you spoken with Harry about what a huge mistake he’s making by throwing in his lot with that git?” Sirius said angrily._

_“Sirius, do you think I would have done such a thing even if I were alive?” When neither said anything, Albus continued. “Ah, well, your silence tells me much. No, dear boy, I would not have said anything of the sort. I told you, as I have always maintained, I trusted Severus Snape, and believed him to be an honourable man. And now Harry has learned that truth as well, though it was an arduous journey for him to come to that conclusion.”_

_“But sir, this is just wrong somehow. Harry should be with a nicer man, someone who—“_

_“But does a nicer man automatically constitute a better man, James? As I recall there was some objection to your marrying a woman who came from a Muggle family. That didn’t seem to stop you one bit.”_

_“Yeah, but Lily was—is—beautiful and smart and kind. Whatever objections my family had about her heritage were trumped by all of those qualities. Snape has nothing to offer.”_

_“Really? Tell me, James, what is it that makes a good partner in life—and even in death?”_

_“Well, kindness, friendship, love—”_

_“The ability to listen, to compromise, someone easy on the eyes.”_

_“Sirius, you don’t really mean that, do you?” Lily asked._

_“Well, it certainly makes eternity go down a little easier.”_

_“All of those attributes you mentioned, the shallowness of the one aside, are things that Harry has obviously found in Severus. Now, you may not have seen those things in Severus when he was your contemporary at Hogwarts. And you did not know him as I did as he matured over the years. And certainly not as Harry has come to know him now,” Albus reasoned with them. “I can assure you he is not the bitter teenager you all knew.”_

_“Then how,” said Sirius defiantly, “can you explain how Snape treated Harry while he was at Hogwarts?”_

_“Because he began teaching at such a tender age, he assumed a dark and foreboding nature to to strike fear in the hearts of some willful seventh years. It seemed he rather liked the reputation of being a ‘nasty git’, as I heard students refer to him, though I must admit I wished he had not fallen as far into the persona as he did. It was also, I feel, a self-preservation tactic. He was unwilling to reveal his true self. But what it important is for you to focus on how he acts in the here and now. It is quite obvious that Harry sees Severus for who is truly is and has forgiven him for whatever happened in the past.”_

_“But he—he was Death Eater!” Sirius spluttered._

_“And is he now a Death Eater? Of course not,” Dumbledore explained patiently. “Do you believe it is possible for someone unredeemable to become redeemed, if not by his actions, then by the force and desire of his own will?”_

_“Well, that’s not what—”_

_“Severus did everything the Order asked of him, even when he himself disagreed with the mission. He did not like being a spy. He wanted only to be left in peace. However, playing the part of a servant of Voldemort was but one way he believed he could find that redemption. When I asked him to promise to eliminate me for the sake of the Order, he objected most strenuously. I forced him to take the Unbreakable Vow with me to secure his compliance. It was not his idea nor his wish to ever do something so heinous. And yet he did it, unwillingly and at great personal sacrifice. You have no idea what it cost him._

_“The Severus Snape you see with Harry today is the true Severus Snape—reserved, somewhat detached, and sarcastic, yes—but he gives love in abundance and cares deeply. He is loyal to a fault, and as Lily knows, has a brilliant mind. Now, I ask you, is not this the sort of man you would have your son fall in love with?”_  
  


*~*

“How have you both been?” Minerva McGonagall looked at the two men over the top of her glasses.

“As well as can be —”

“Bloody miserable.”

“I see.” Though they spoke at the same time, Minerva could tell neither was quite as happy as they should. Severus was sitting ramrod straight and grim; Harry, haphazardly sprawled in the chair next to him, squirming. She sighed mentally. _There was a reason these things went out of fashion, and yet there are always a certain few who insist on maintaining the traditions._ “Well, you both look as though you could use a good night’s sleep.”

“That’s not all,” Harry grumbled softly.

That caused her to smile. Trust Harry to voice his truest feelings on any matter. “It will be over in just a few days now. I have heard from all but one of your participants thus far.” She hesitated at that point. “If I do not hear from … that person, we shall proceed without him.”

“Bloody werewolf. I swear by all things—”

“Severus, you really shouldn’t finish that,” Harry said. “Look, he’s explained his reasons to us, and even though I think it’s stupid, we just have to respect that he’s not going to accept it. And now, I just don’t care. I’ll always be friends with Hermione, and as long as he doesn’t interfere with that, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Severus said hotly. “I have not become involved in what has evolved into some sort of vendetta against you, but I will now. For him to simply not reply to your request to be a witness at your commitment ceremony—“

“Our commitment ceremony.”

“Yes, of course, it is _our_ commitment ceremony,” Severus said. “The point is that he should have at least sent word that he did not intend to participate. The protocols regarding participants are very clear, and he is well aware of them, seeing as your parents were married according to similar rituals.” He finished with a contemptuous wave.

Harry was seething. _This has gone on long enough. I’ve been far too forgiving, and now Remus is going to listen to me._

He stood suddenly. “Minerva,” he said as politely as he could muster, “would you please excuse us? I need to visit an old friend.”

Minerva rose and came around her desk. She placed a hand on his sleeve. “Tell him you have my full support. And that the next time I’m going to thrash him soundly.”

Harry grinned. Severus inclined his head to her in farewell, and then favoured her with a roguish smile as he walked behind his lover.

*~*

“Harry!

“Remus.”

“What brings you—”

Harry pushed past him. “Is Hermione home? No? Good.” He stalked down the hallway.

Remus stared at the young man, when another voice interrupted the forming protest. “May I enter as well?”

The imposing figure of Severus Snape, arms folded and with a barely concealed sneer on his face, stood black and foreboding in the doorway.

“Yes, of course. Please—”

“Thank you,” Severus said as he crossed the threshold. He gave Remus a look of utter contempt.

Remus followed Snape to the lounge where Harry was waiting, looking out of the window at Hermione’s garden.

“Let us proceed to the purpose of this visit,” Severus said to Harry. “The quicker we can deal—”

“Severus,” Harry warned, as his came and touched the man’s sleeve, “you promised to allow me to take care of this.”

Snape paused. “So I did; be about our business then.”

Remus was filled with dread. Since his confrontation with Snape in Minerva’s office several weeks ago, he had been mulling over the reasons—and his anger—for opposing the relationship between the two men. He had known about it since almost the start. Severus’s recent restoration to freedom by the Ministry after his actions during the war brought him to the only place he had to go, the Order of the Phoenix’s headquarters and Harry’s home, at number 12, Grimmauld Place. Despite knowing all Snape had done, despite all the sacrifices, Remus simply could not resolve the burning anger he harboured for the double spy. The hot vein ran too deeply; not enough time had passed to heal the wounds, the hurt, the betrayal and allow them to be replaced with the healing knowledge of Snape’s contributions.

It made him feel small and petty. But it was the one thing he permitted to linger. Unfortunately, now it was bound up with Harry.

“Yes, please come in and sit,” Remus said politely but frostily. He kept his eyes on Harry, who sat.

Severus did not sit. He instead stood beside Harry’s chair.

And placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Well, Harry, now what would you like—”

“I want to know why you have been a complete git about this.”

“This?”

“Come off it, Remus,” Harry said hotly. “Us. Severus and me. I know you’re extremely unhappy. You’ve always been against it. You told Severus three weeks ago, and now I want to hear it from you myself. And not the usual bullshit about us being too different, or him being too old for me, or how this is going to ruin me. That’s crap and you know it.”

Remus remained silent but looked back and forth between the two.

“Yes, Lupin, do try to come up with another lame reason that passes for truth,” Snape sneered.

Remus shot Snape a look that that said “You unmitigated bastard.” Severus returned an equally stormy challenge.

Harry gave an exasperated snort. “We can do it your way if you like, but I’m not leaving until I get an answer out of you.”

The two men held their stares for several more heartbeats, and then Harry felt Severus’s hand relax minutely. Remus’s eyes slid away.

“Remus, please,” Harry said, rising. “I want—I need you to be okay with this.”

Remus looked at the young strong fingers now gripping his arm, and then into the determined emerald eyes. He saddened. _Lily and James should be here with their son. They should be the ones counselling him, not me._

But no amount of wishing could relieve him of his duty to be there to this young man. And so far, he had failed Harry utterly.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, unable to look at him. “I’m sorry I haven’t been available to you. I have allowed my personal prejudices to cloud my judgement.”

He faced Harry now, his heart heavy with its burden. “Harry, I must confess that I have struggled to accept Severus.” He closed his eyes, then opened then, his courage found. “Do you really want to know, Severus? It’s because I don’t think you’re good enough. Harry deserves better than you. You’re tainted. You have the stench of dark magic all over you. And guilt, God, the guilt just rolls off of you like a river.”

“Well, now, finally the truth,” Severus said, surprising Harry. “I absolutely agree with you on that point.”

“Why on earth would I want someone as lovely and kind as Harry Potter to ever come near you?" Remus spat. "You pollute him. You spread your filth all over him. Just at the moment when he cleanses himself of Voldemort’s stain, you reinfect him with your very presence.”

Remus stepped closer to Snape. “It wasn’t enough that Voldemort tried to kill him, but he had to leave a piece of his vile and evil self within him. And that caused people to reject him — out of ignorance and fear, yes — over the years. Did you know that even his own friends, those who knew him best were afraid of him? Were you aware that Wizarding society was prepared to cast him aside as a lunatic? And after the final battle, they feared he was so filled with Voldemort’s residual magic that he could possibly become the next evil sorcerer? That if one neglected, needy child could rise up in anger and lay waste to our world, that another abused and needy child could do the same thing in retribution for all those terrible years? That was the fate Harry would have faced had many people, led by Arthur and Molly Weasley, not stood up to the Ministry and the liars at the _Prophet_ and anyone who wrote him off as the next Dark Lord.”

“Remus, that would never—” Harry tried to cut in.

“I know that,” Remus said. “I _know_. Everyone who knows you even a little knows that. But greater Wizarding society—”

“Fuck them!” Harry cried. “Fuck them all.” He went to stand beside Severus. “Since when have you been concerned about ‘greater Wizarding society’, Remus? You, who have been shunned for nearly all your life?” Harry was incredulous.

“Harry, I am looking out for—”

“I don’t need a minder, Remus! I can fucking take care of myself, and I certainly don’t give a shit about what anyone else thinks.”

“But you need to. How else do you think you have your teaching position?” Remus said. “Do you know what it cost Minerva to convince the Ministry and the Board of Governors that you weren’t crazy or another Dark Lord in waiting? She paid a heavy price, Harry. They all did. They all paid something of themselves to make sure that you could continue to walk relatively freely in our world, that you could continue to have a life here. And then you go and throw in your lot with Severus. It’s only by the grace of Merlin that he’s even allowed to be out of Azkaban, let alone employed and not followed full-time by an Auror.”

“I know, Remus, _I know_ the price. But I didn’t ask them to do that. I didn’t go to anyone and ask them to be my advocate. What they did, they did of their own free will. I know that. And the way I repay them is to live my life in a manner befitting the memory of Albus Dumbledore. I teach their children to think and how to be good wizards. I teach them everything I know so that no one does anything in secret. And I befriend them. I listen to them. God, the number of hours I spend talking to students, especially Slytherins, to make sure none of them harbours any delusions about another Dark Lord rising up to bring glory to the noble House of Salazar Slytherin. Why on earth did you think Minerva made me Head of that house? Because I am one? No, so that I will listen to them.”

Harry took a step towards Remus. “And it’s starting to pay off. Many of the old families are beginning to trust again. They’re not nearly as secretive any more. It’s going to take a long time, but it has to succeed. We have to trust them. And trust is what all of this is about.”

He lowered his voice. “I do care what people think, but only in my professional life. What I do in my own time is my business. And people have to recognize that. I mean, the Chosen One crap has to count for something, doesn’t it? But with regard to that personal life, I do care what my friends think, what you think.”

Remus looked at him, startled.

“You are the last tangible link to my parents. I need you, Remus, as much as I need Severus. The past year has been horrible. I haven’t had you near me, to talk to me—really talk to me.” Harry’s voice cracked. “Severus has proven his loyalty to all those closest to us, everyone except you.”

”It’s not his loyalty that I question.”

Snape looked steadily at Remus, and raised an eyebrow.

“As for his devotion to me,” Harry said with quiet defiance, “he had no one to prove that to except for me. Prove your love for me by trusting _me._ "

Harry’s declaration slammed into Remus. And when he realised what he had done to Harry, the banging of the front door brought him back to his senses.

_What have I done?_

*~*

At four o’clock on 10 August, Harry Potter Apparated along with Hermione Granger and Minerva McGonagall to the house at Godric’s Hollow. Where once there was a small cottage, a magnificent stone and wood house stood in a small grove of trees, the sunlight sparkling off the cut-glass windows.

“Oh my god, Harry,” Hermione gasped, “it’s gorgeous. It’s absolutely gorgeous.” She turned and gave him a hug.

Minerva was just as overwhelmed, though she was much more thoughtful in her own assessment of the home. No words could express how she felt at seeing a new house built on the same site as the small, cozy, provincial structure before its destruction on All Hallows Eve in 1981. She had visited Lily and James, as well as his parents at the old family cottage. She pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed her eyes.

Harry felt the residual magic pulsing through the site, and he knew that the two witches could feel it, too. He and Severus had spent months excavating the site of the original house, the cottage that had been blown apart by the force of Tom Riddle’s Killing Curse. At first Harry could hardly bear to be near the place; the stench of the dark magic was so foul that the first few visits literally brought him to his knees: Memories of a sickly green light and blood-curdling screams and rough language and fear— _God, the fear._ And then he found it, in the very spot where his mother gave up her life, he found the aura of her courage and her love. Harry stood in the small circle, surrounded by the faint essence of Lily Potter’s eternal conviction that her son would not die that night. Imbibing the strength of her love caused Harry’s knees to give way, and Severus found him in a heap, mourning for the mother he had never truly known, yet knew her utterly. The only thing Severus could do was hold him.

Right then, they began the difficult process of recovering the site. Original stones had been worked and reused; the granite-and-marble hearth reassembled as much as possible. The internal wooden structure was completely destroyed, but the work crew found several of the large floor joists, which were salvaged for use.

And now a house at Godric’s Hollow stood once again, ready to be occupied by the one remaining member of the Potter family. Harry could not wait to share it with Severus and begin filling it with good times and wonderful memories.

“Welcome, all,” came a low voice from the porch. Severus Snape stood, waiting to greet everyone to his—their—home.

Harry walked up to him, and bowed in keeping with the formal roles they would have to play according the commitment rituals during the day. “Good afternoon, Severus,” Harry said formally, his eyes and smile filled with joy at seeing his lover again. “I trust you have moved in and found everything completed.”

“I have,” Severus said equally formally. “The interior work is beyond my expectations. I believe I must convey my congratulations to our contractor. It seems he was not the bumbling idiot I thought him to be.” Though his face showed a slight scowl, his eyes fairly danced with mirth and happiness. Lowering his voice, he said, “You look marvelous.” Harry reddened slightly, his eyes never leaving Severus’s lips.

Hermione and Minerva climbed the steps to join them. “High praise, indeed, from the man who demands perfection in every aspect of life,” Minerva said, as she extended her hand. “How wonderful to see you in this glorious place, Severus.”

He caught her hand and kissed it. “Welcome, Minerva.” He bowed to Hermione, who returned his greeting with a curtsey and a broad smile.

“Come on, let me show you around,” Harry said, taking Hermione by the hand to urge her into the house. “Severus, did the caterer—”

“Everything arrived on time, and correctly as we agreed. One representative is still arranging the food in the dining room, and will soon depart. He is … competent enough.” He followed closely behind with Minerva on his arm.

They walked into the house. Harry had spent the last few days placing the final pieces. Nothing would be coming from the house at Grimmauld Place, though he noted that Severus had added two personal items to the mantel—a photograph of his mother and a crystal vase.

“Harry, this is such a wonderful house,” Hermione gushed as they entered the sitting room in the rear of the house. This was Harry’s favorite room. Paneled in light and dark hardwoods, it featured full floor-to-ceiling bookcases on two sides; a large stone fireplace dominated the outside wall. Comfortable leather furniture and lamps filled the room. But best of all was the high ceiling: Harry and Severus’s bedroom opened high above the room so that the fireplace could heat it in winter. Severus was quietly explaining to Minerva how the architect had designed this feature, when the room filled with music.

Harry was standing still in the middle of the room, a wireless playing a melody. Hermione was urging him on with a smile. Then he bowed.

“Severus, in fulfillment of our commitment agreement this day, I offer you your heart’s desire, and hope that you find it acceptable. I do this to woo you and make you mine,” Harry said, carefully saying each of the words of the ancient ritual.

The “wooing,” an intrinsic part of the commitment ceremony required each partner to select how and where he wished to be wooed by the other. Harry nearly choked when he received Severus’s request: “Sing me a song.” Harry truly thought he could not sing. As always, he sought Hermione’s assistance, and she suggested singing lessons from one of the most unlikely sources possible.

Madam Puddyfoot, while being the proprietress of one of the more uncomfortable places in Hogsmeade (in Harry’s opinion), turned out to be an excellent vocal coach. She immediately took him under her wing, tested his singing ability and selected several styles and songs which might fit his voice. At the end of the two weeks of intense instruction, Harry felt pretty confident about his offering.

Since the tradition did not indicate when it was to be done during the commitment day, he was grateful they had ended up here in the den before too many of their guests showed up.

And after a simple piano introduction, he began to sing…

*~*

Hermione, for her part, watched her best friend in wonder and amazement. Harry sang with such feeling and verve. It was a perfect song—romantic, but not sappy, heartfelt and simple. It spoke of the glory of discovering love, and how now nothing is beyond reach. He swayed in time with the music, walking slowly about Severus, never breaking eye contact. She knew Severus’s tastes ran to the classical, but the song Harry selected was well written and had a light jazz beat. She was absolutely stunned at Harry’s transformation.

But Severus’s face was priceless. He had never been a handsome man, the hooked nose and pasty, rubbery skin and dark, artless eyebrows gave him a sinister appearance, especially combined with the dark clothing and sour expression. But now his face was almost handsome with softened, bright eyes and a beatific smile—love had certainly transformed him. Hermione’s heart melted.

*~*

Harry finished his song, and bowed. “This expresses my love and devotion. If you find it acceptable, please, will you agree to be mine?” Hermione and Minerva exchanged amused looks at the Victorian cadence of the ritual words.

Severus bowed in return. “Your offering is acceptable. I agree to be yours.”

And then, very softly, he said in Harry’s ear, “I think you should sing to me more often.” Harry wanted nothing more than to kiss the life out of him, but dared not touch him, especially since they were so close to the end. Severus favoured him with a brief, brilliant smile and turned to lead Minerva from the room.

Harry collapsed on the sofa, Hermione beside him, looking at him rapturously.

“Where have the aliens taken the Harry Potter I know, and who is this scrumptious, talented man they’ve left in his place?” she teased gently, taking his hand.

Harry sat with his head back, eye closed. “I have never done anything so nerve-wracking in all my life.”

“Oh, that definitely trumps facing down the most evil sorcerer in three generations, and fifteen of his henchmen.”

Harry snorted. “Okay, maybe not. Still, I was most definitely out of my element.”

Hermione laid her head next to his. “But Severus doesn’t have to know that. Harry, you fulfilled a desire that came from his heart. You don’t think he would request something to deliberately make you uncomfortable?”

He shook his head slowly, and grinned. “You know Severus. Despite everything, he has that nasty streak in him.”

She looked at him steadily, silent.

Then he raised his head. “No, he really wouldn’t do that. I sometimes sing in the shower, and he’s commented that I have a nice voice. He does love opera, and most assuredly, I don’t come close to having a voice like any of the tenors he listens to.” He stood, pulling Hermione with him. “I liked that song.”

“Harry, you sang from your heart, and that’s what he heard. And so did Minerva and I.” She hugged him impulsively. “Harry Potter is getting married,” she said with a delighted giggle.

“Committed, Hermione.”

*~*

Harry and Hermione entered the garden area where the rest of the guests were milling about. A shout went up from the Weasley family contingent, plus Tonks and Neville Longbottom. They engulfed Harry and Hermione with hugs and smiles and best wishes. Fred Weasley solemnly swore that in honour of the occasion, it would be a prank-free day (“But I don’t promise about the night, mate,” he smirked.) A smaller, more subdued group of Hogwarts professors approached Harry. Harry looked at them with some surprise. Each shook his hand, gave a small smile, and quietly apologized.

“My dear boy,” squeaked Filius Flitwick, “I have been remiss in my attitude towards Severus. And you. I do hope you will accept my apology.”

“Have you told him that?” Harry said.

“He has, and I have accepted his apology,” Severus said from behind him. “As I have from all of them.”

Harry looked around the garden. The Weasleys were laughing and mingling with the Hogwarts teachers. Neville and Professor Sprout were off to one side, discussing the planting in the English garden; Tonks was slapping Ron on the back, who was choking on his drink.

It was as he had imagined it in his wildest dreams. All the people he admired, respected, or loved had gathered at his and Severus’s home to celebrate with them.

All save one.

A table laden with platters of cold finger foods and bottles of wine, beer, and whiskey now commanded the attention of the guests. Hermione was fussing over Harry to eat.

“If you drink any champagne or wine, it’ll go to your head, and it’ll be awful. You don’t want a headache on your wedding night.”

“It’s a commitment, Hermione. And I’m fine. Really. See? Food. In mouth.” He popped carrot in and chewed.

“Great Merlin, Hermione, lay off the guy,” Ron said, coming up to them, handing Harry a drink.

“Wotcher!” Tonks greeted. “Harry, you’re lookin’ very fine today. I like this shirt”—she touched the sleeve—ooh, silk! Nice.”

“It’s bloody hot if you ask me,” Draco Malfoy commented, a glass of champagne in his hand.

“What about that cooling charm you’re so famous for, then?” Harry returned, raised a glass in greeting.

Draco clinked his to Harry’s. “I don’t think even my cooling charm can beat this.”

The small circle looked at one another, not knowing what to say next.

“Ronald.”

“Draco.”

The two childhood enemies eyed each other warily. The others watched them.

“So Draco,” Tonks cut in, “how’s things with Puddlemere? Hear you lucky buggers just upgraded to the new Cloudburst 6300.”

“Really?” Ron was now very interested. “How are they? Does the stop action work well? You know, that’s supposed to be the biggest breakthrough in broom technology in three centuries.”

“You have no idea,” Draco said, with more enthusiasm than Harry thought possible. “It’s unbelievable how well they perform….”

Harry was pleased that the two were making an effort at getting along, especially on this day. He didn’t want to have to jump into the middle of an argument; he was already on edge.

Having gone without sex, let alone a good cuddle, for an entire lunar cycle was wearing him down. He had never thought himself to be a person who needed a lot of physical affection to get him through the day, but over the two years Severus had been in his life, and his bed, he had grown accustomed to touch. No, they didn’t hang all over each other, even in bed. But having experienced very little for most of his life, he quickly realized what he had been missing. It was wonderful to awaken with just Severus’s proximal warmth; a whisper touch of fingers to the hand, his face, his hair by this stern man was enough to arouse every nerve. Over the past couple of weeks, Harry grew more desperate, seeking out contact with anyone, anything, to fulfill his daily touch requirement. He even asked Hermione if he could borrow Crookshanks until the commitment day.

“Why on earth would you want him?” she had asked. “I know he likes you, but he’s hardly worthy company.”

“I-I—it’s lonely in the castle,” he returned.

“You’ve lived there alone for several years, you know.” She had tried to puzzle out the reason for Harry’s sudden interest in the aging feline. “There are cats in the castle that you could care for. Or, Albert would love to come stay with you again. He likes it there.”

Harry liked Hermione and Remus’s giant Labrador retriever, but he was a bit smelly and slobbery. “Well, okay, I guess that would be—”

Then it had finally come to her. “Harry, do you need a hug?” She gave him a smile, and at his bare nod, she had gathered him up into her arms. He immediately discarded all pretense of manly disinterest, and snuggled into her warmth.

“Yes,” he muttered into her bushy hair. “I miss him, Hermione. I miss being with him.”

She had kissed his ear, and held onto him for a long while before he finally, sheepishly, pulled out of her embrace. “Am I pathetic?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she declared, holding his hand, and stroking it. “Everyone needs touch to keep sane.” She hugged him again. “Anytime you need it, you know where to find me. Okay?”

And so that was how he had stayed relatively sane for the final two weeks of their contractually imposed exile from one another. However much he loved Hermione, though, her hugs simply could not replace the touch of his beloved. But it had been enough.

Harry could not keep his eyes off of Severus. He was dressed in a white, loose-fitting raw silk shirt, black trousers and lightweight black summer robes. His hair was pulled back at the nape in a short ponytail. One tendril had escaped, and every time he smoothed it back, Harry grieved for it; for some reason that one rogue slip of hair made Severus look incredibly sexy.

For the rest of the afternoon, the guests milled about the yard, admiring the gardens and the yet –to-be cultivated plots. The two men led their friends through the restored house, pointing out again some of the changes and architectural features. The Weasley men made a foray into the surrounding trees, and returned exclaiming how they had found a stream and a spot just down from the house that would make a perfect swimming hole.

Harry made the circuit of all their guests, speaking to each, and thanking them for attending. Hermione stayed nearby, as was her duty as his “Defender” (“Defender of what?” she had asked with a laugh, when he explained the ritual to her. “I reckon you’re to defend my purity should he try to break the contract,” he snorted.) Minerva was Severus’s and she attended to him. As they walked about, Harry and Hermione found themselves separated from the group, alone at the edge of the herb garden. It was lined with annual flowers of every colour imaginable. The plants flourished in the sunny south lawn. They were admiring them when a low voice interrupted.

“My dear Harry.”

Harry and Hermione turned to find Severus standing before them. Then, he bowed. Hermione stepped off to one side, grinning as she did so, leaving Harry alone to face him.

“Harry, in fulfillment of our commitment agreement this day, I offer you your heart’s desire, and hope that you find it acceptable. I do this to woo you and make you mine.”

And then, without breaking eye contact he began to recite:  
_  
Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

_Admit impediments. Love is not love_

_Which alters when it alteration finds,_

_Or bends with the remover to remove:_

_O no! it is an ever-fixed mark_

_That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;_

A crowd gathered at a respectful distance, having been informed of what was transpiring. Not a sound, save for the chirping of birds and the gentle wind in the trees, could be heard.

_It is the star to every wandering bark,_

_Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken._

_Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle’s compass come:_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

_If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. _

He stepped closer as he finished the sonnet. “I cannot get you out of my mind,” he whispered into Harry’s ear, softly so no one else could hear. “I have missed the sound of your footfall in our room, your voice calling my name, your breathing next to me in my bed.” He walked around him, his words tickling Harry’s neck. “I crave your touch, your breath upon my face, your lips to mine in dark of night.”

Harry’s brain crawled to a standstill, focused solely on Severus. “When these people finally leave us at end of day, I will take you to our bed— _our bed_ —and I will feast upon every centimetre of your skin. I will lick every sensitive place on your magnificent body. I will tease your opening, slowly, gently, lovingly, and then I will enter you bit by bit. I will make love to you until you come. And then, I will do it again. And again.”

Severus then stepped back, and bowed. “This expresses my love and devotion. If you find it acceptable, please, will you agree to be mine?”

Harry gulped, shaking himself back into reality. He said as steadily as he could, “Yes, umm… Your offering is acceptable. I agree to be yours.” And he bowed jerkily.

Severus walked away to rejoin Minerva and the others.

“Drink this.”

Harry looked dumbfounded at the glass in his hand. Hermione touched his arm. “Drink it, Harry.”

He raised the glass, and drank the cool water. All of it. He panted as he finished.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry finally said, his brain finally restarting itself. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Wow, that was intense,” Ron said, coming up and handing Harry a cold butterbeer. “I think you need something a little stronger than just water. What was that Severus recited to you?”

“Shakespeare,” Harry said dumbly.

“One hundred and sixteenth sonnet,” Hermione finished. “That was lovely.”

“That was part of the ritual, eh?” Ron said. “I dunno if I want to go through everything you have, though it would be nice to have my intended wife say stuff like that to me.”

“What else did he say, Harry?”

“Umm…I don’t think anyone else is supposed to know. The ritual doesn’t say everything has to be public.” Harry reddened.

“Oh,” Ron said, cottoning on as Harry fidgeted with his robes. “Ew. I don’t want to know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, whatever it was, it made quite an impression on you, Harry.”

“Umm…yeah.”

*~*

At precisely seven o’clock, as twilight first began to make itself known, Minerva McGonagall clapped her hands together, calling the gathering to order. They moved to the large arbor in the rear of the house. Wisteria vines criss-crossed over the wooden structure, large stands of white and lavender blooms hung heavily. On a table in the middle of the arbor stood a bank of white candles. They all assembled round it.

“Well now, my friends, we have come to the time which is the reason we have gathered here today,” she began. “Severus Snape and Harry Potter have decided to commit their lives and their magic to one another according to the ancient customs of our world.”

“Thou, Severus and thou, Harry, come before this court of witnesses freely of your own volition to commit your lives and magic to each other. Is this so?”

Harry and Severus said in unison, “It is so.”

“Do you wish to proceed with the final act as laid out in the contract of ritual?”

“We do.”

“All ye who have come today to witness this commitment do so in support of the intentions of Harry and Severus. Do ye?”

They all said together, “We do.”

“As the executrix of the contract of ritual, I declare that all has been conducted decently and in order.” She waved her wand, and the sealed parchment appeared before them. “We shall proceed to the final act of commitment.”

The contract unfurled itself, and a pot of ink and a quill appeared next to it on the table.

“In accordance with ancient customs, we call upon those who are not with us, but who we wish were here to celebrate this union.” Slowly, the deep roll of a bell tolling rang out.

Severus and Harry stepped to the table. Severus tapped his wand to a candle, and said, “Eileen Prince Snape.” A flame appeared.

Harry tapped the candles next, “James Potter. Lily Evans Potter. Sirius Black.”

Together they tapped the final candle, “Albus Percivel Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”

The small arbor filled with the soft glow of candlelight. The bell finished its toll, and everyone was silent, remembering those who had gone on before. Finally, Minerva’s voice shattered the quiet.

“Harry, Severus, please face each other and join right hands.”

They did, grasping each other at the wrist. Harry’s pulse quickened at the touch of his lover’s hand to his; he was gratified to feel Severus’s pulse flutter as well.

“So much as you have agreed to come before this assembled body, you have also agreed to say vows that will commit your selves, your magic, your very lives to one another,” intoned Minerva. “We await your vows to each other.”

Severus was the first to speak: “Harry, I take thee to be my partner in all things. All that I have I offer to thee; whatever thou hast to give, I gladly receive; wherever thou go, I will go as well. May our love keep me true to thee always, and thee to me.”

Harry, never breaking eye contact, repeated the same vow to Severus.

“Harry and Severus, in accordance with tradition, you have selected certain people to bestow upon you traditional gifts as you begin your life together.”

Hermione came first. “Harry and Severus, my wish for you is friendship. Friendship is the basis of all true relationships. When times are especially rough, depend on the strength of your friendship to see you through.” She waved her wand over their joined hands; they glowed for a few seconds.

Ron then said, “Severus, Harry, my gift for you is laughter. Someone once said that laughter is the best medicine. I expect that it’s true, because without laughter, I think the world would be a right depressing place. Remember to share a laugh, or at least a smile, once a day.” He waved his wand over their hands.

Draco stepped forward, “Severus and Harry, I wish you both prosperity. Prosperity can come in many forms, not just in the monetary sense, but in all aspects of life. May your love, your friendship, your passion, your very lives together prosper for the rest of your days.” He waved his wand as well.

“For you,” Arthur Weasley said, “we wish the strength of family. Though your parents are not here in this realm, know that we here are your family. We pledge to always be available to you, whenever you need a helping hand, a strong shoulder, a steely back, and an open mind. Draw upon this group the strength to build your family for all of your days.” Together, he and Molly waved their wands over their hands. Molly wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and smiled.

As they returned to the crowd and Minerva began the final part of the ceremony, another voice cried out.

“Wait!”

They turned. Standing just behind the arbor was Remus Lupin. The crowd parted and he strode forward to Severus and Harry.

Severus’s face clouded, and he nearly dropped Harry’s hand, but Harry held on. “No,” he whispered. “Wait.”

Remus stopped before them. “Harry, I—”

Severus cut him off. “Lupin, unless you are here to offer Harry—”

“Wait, please,” Remus began. “Please, hear me out.” He took a deep breath before he could begin again.

“Harry, Severus I must confess that I have been an utter fool for the past two years. I have not treated you or your decision to be together with the respect it deserves.”

He turned and faced Severus directly. “I thought…I thought Harry deserved better. A better man. An easier life. My reasons were bound up with our history and my personal feelings towards you, Severus. Maybe I was also influenced by what James and Lily would have thought about this, and what they would have wanted for you, Harry. But then I realised how foolish that would be.”

To Harry he said, hand outstretched. “I am not your parent, though I would have been proud to call you my son. I can imagine with some certainty what James’s reaction would’ve been when you first told him about being involved with Severus, but your mother, Harry—Lily— would have seen the good and beauty and rightness of what you and Severus have. She always did know how to see the raw truth of everything, good and bad. I have been petty and mean-spirited. I have not, as you point out, Harry, trusted you to make this decision about your life. But Lily would have trusted you. And so must I, as should we all.

“Harry, Severus, with your permission, I would like to give you my gift.”

Minerva stepped forward, looking at Severus as she did. He nodded minutely, and she said, “Please proceed.”

“Harry, Severus,” and then Remus knelt, “I give to you the gift of forgiveness. It is the handmaiden of love, for without immediate and unconditional forgiveness, love cannot prosper; it cannot be nurtured and sustained. There will be days when it may seem impossible to see through your differences, but if you call on the power of your shared love, the strength of your friendship, the bonds of family and friends, and the trust that comes only from an open and honest life together, you will find that forgiveness will come, and with it, joy in morning.”

Then, as he waved his wand over the joined hands, he whispered, “Please forgive me as well.”

Harry was speechless, watching the only remaining friend of his parents, kneeling before them and begging for absolution. It was not right, even though Remus had been a prat. He did it only because of his love, and Harry knew that in his heart.

But before Harry could say anything, Severus spoke, “Get up off the ground, Lupin. You look—

Harry pulled on Severus’s hand, shushing him. “Please, don’t kneel before us,” Harry said. Stand beside us as our friend. And I—we—accept your apology.”

Remus dropped his wand and buried his face in his hands. When he raised it again, tears streamed down his face. Hermione came to him and hugged him from behind, kissing the top of his head. There wasn’t a dry eye among the crowd; Severus’s face was impassive.

Finally, Remus tried to stand, struggling as he did. Together, Harry and Severus dropped hands and, along with Hermione, assisted him. For a moment, their hands lingered on his arms, in support and in gratitude. He returned to the circle of friends, joining hands with Hermione.

Minerva dabbed at her eyes, and cleared her throat, and completed the final magical incantation. “I declare Harry James Potter and Severus Snape to be committed to one another for all of their days. What we here have witnessed let no one try to put asunder.” As she waved the final pattern over them, a luminous glow surrounded them, swelling over all in the arbor, and finally dissipated.

Harry and Severus looked at each other. Minerva leaned in and whispered, “Yes, you may kiss if you wish.”

Harry didn’t need another invitation; he reached up and kissed his partner fully on the lips, quickly and gently. No need to draw it out. Severus smiled and touched Harry’s cheek, and said very softly, “I love you.”

Harry smiled broadly, and on impulse, embraced him. “Love you, too.” Someone behind them cheered.

When they parted, Severus gave the crowd a smirk. To Harry, he again touched his face.

“I will deal with you later,” he murmured.

“I certainly hope so,” Harry returned with a sly grin.

And then they turned to accept the congratulations of their friends. Fred and George popped noisemakers that shot gold and silver sparks and small white birds that twittered loudly. But true to their word, that was the extent of their rambunctious behaviour.

Led by Severus and Harry, the crowd moved to the side garden where the area had been reset with a large U-shaped table. Tiny fairies in glass globes on the table lit. They sat down to a sumptuous meal of prime rib, Yorkshire pudding, roasted garlic potatoes and assorted vegetables. Red wine flowed freely. Everyone relaxed as they shared the post-ceremony repast with their hosts. Finally, a large cake appeared.

“Aren’t you two going to cut the first piece, Harry?” Hermione inquired. “It’s the proper thing to do at a marriage feast.”

“This is a commitment, Hermione,” Harry said with a trace of mock exasperation. “We don’t do the wedding stuff.”

“Cut the cake!” yelled the twins from the far end of the table.

“Come now, Harry. Perhaps we should offer to serve the cake,” Severus said, a smile lighting his face. Harry stared at him. “Just this once. But there will be no ridiculous feeding each other the first piece.” He gave her a pointed look. “Miss Granger.”

Hermione gave him a pouty look, but brightened as the two men stood to cut the cake. Together, they cut each guest a piece, and served the plates.

“Thank you for coming today,” Severus said quietly to each person he served. “This has meant more to me than I can say.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” came each response. Many also shook his hand again.

Coffee and tea and brandy followed; everyone relaxed, enjoying the assembled company. Severus was especially tranquil, speaking freely with all. He never released Harry’s hand, though their joined hands were discretely hidden in their robes.

Finally, Minerva rose to perform her final act as hostess of the evening. “My friends, the time has arrived that we must bid our couple farewell for the evening. I propose a toast.”

Everyone found a small glass of fine brandy sitting in front of them, and they raised them. She said, “I hope you do not mind, but I would like to use a traditional one: May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May the rain fall soft upon your fields. And until we are together again, may the Great Spirit hold you closely forever.

“To Harry and Severus,” Minerva finished, raising her glass.

“To Harry and Severus,” the assembly murmured in reply.

Harry turned to Severus, and whispered, “To you, my love,” touching his glass to his partner’s. They drank deeply of the brandy as one.

“To us.”

Everyone rose, gathered up their cloaks and other belongings. Harry and Severus went and stood on the first step of the porch of their home, and bade each person farewell with handshakes or hugs and kisses.

Remus and Hermione lingered at the end of the line. When they stepped up, she squeezed Severus’s hand and reached up to peck him on the cheek. No words passed between them, but he gave her a smile. She hugged Harry tightly. “I love you,” he said. “Always. Thanks for being there for me.”

Severus and Remus stared at each other briefly, and then they embraced. No back-slapping as wizards are wont to do, but just a short, hard clinch. “Take care,” Remus finally said.

“I will,” he replied.

Harry reached out to him first. “Thank you. Thank you for finally accepting this,” Harry said, tears forming in his eyes.

Remus kissed his cheek. “I’m so sorry it took so long for me to wise up. I was a fool to waste so much time on the past.”

“Well, now that this is out of the way, we’ll have to catch up soon. Missed you, Remus.”

And finally, Minerva was the final person left.

“I cannot think of a time when I have ever been happier, or filled with more hope for two people. It has been a privilege to share this experience with you.” She kissed them and gave them long hugs.

“Minerva, words cannot do justice to how I feel,” Severus whispered sincerely into the dear woman’s ear as she held him. “I am overwhelmed.”

“Just take good care of him and I shall be pleased.”

And with that, she Apparated away.

For a moment, they stood together in front of their new house as if they did not know what to do or what was to come next. The representative from the catering company was levitating platters and dishes into carrying cases next to the porch.

“Leave us,” commanded Severus. “Now.”

“As you wish,” the shocked wizard said. He Disapparated.

Severus took Harry’s hand and pulled him into the house. Harry, startled by his partner’s activity, followed him.

But when he was pushed up against the wall in the hallway and Severus’s lips found his, he recovered, and kissed as though his life depended upon it. Hot and insistent, he pushed his tongue against Severus’s.

Never had Severus been so adamant in his ardour. The kiss deepened as Severus ground his hips into Harry’s, his erection searing through the trousers. Harry pushed back, and groaned at the contact.

“Bedroom, now,” Harry gasped.

Loathe to release the kiss, they stumbled their way up the stairs. Severus fell backwards, with Harry following. He wrapped his long arms about Harry, and they lay together on the hard, wooden stairs lost in each other’s embrace and fervor.

“Must move,” Severus wheezed. “My back…”

“Oh god, Severus,” Harry scrambled up immediately, pulling on Severus’s hands. “I’m sorry. Are you hurt?”

”No, no, I’m fine. But I can’t handle the edge of a step grinding into my spine.” He rubbed the aching spot in his lower back.

“Oh god, I’ve hurt you.” Harry massaged his back.

“I’m fine,” Severus repeated slowly, grasping Harry’s arms. “No harm has been done.” He pulled Harry to him closely. “Let’s just get up the stairs and into bed, shall we?”

“Yes, please.” Harry clambered up, tugging on his lover’s hands. Severus had to practically run to keep up with him.

When they reached bedroom, they threw open the door and entered a room lighted by two large candles on the bedside tables. The blue duvet on the large bed was turned down; white rose petals were strewn across the expanse.

“What the—”

“Hermione,” Harry muttered, as he pulled off his robe and toed off shoes. “She really got into the whole romance thing.” He shoved Severus’s robes off of his shoulders.

Severus had gone to work on the buttons on Harry’s shirt. “She has shown an appalling propensity towards traditional expressions of romantic love of late. I find it disappointing that she has become something of a common girl.” He opened the shirt, yanking the tails from the trousers and off of Harry’s body.

“Give her a break. I think she’s angling to convince Remus to marry sometime before the decade runs out.” Harry was getting frustrated by the smaller buttons on Severus’s shirt, so he pulled the shirt out of the trousers and tried tugging it over his head; Severus’s hair, now completely free of the band holding it back, got caught in the assault.

“Ouch! Take it easy!”

“No, I won’t,” Harry panted, undoing the buttons on the trousers. “Can’t you ever wear anything with a zip? Zips are convenient; they are our friends; they’re simple and bloody fast.” Triumphant as the last button came free, he pushed the trousers down, he quickly worked on his own.

Finally disrobed, they stood before each other, naked, panting, with erections jutting forth, red, hard and demanding.

“Oh god, Severus.” Harry nearly knocked his lover into the bed.

Harry never thought skin-to-skin contact could feel so incredible: soft hair and warm skin covering still taut muscles inflamed his senses even more. Severus reached up to hold Harry’s head so that he could take control of the kiss—and oh, what a kiss. Harry hoped it would never end. But when Severus’s long, slender fingers probed the cleft of his arse, he pushed himself up, straddling his body.

“Yesss,” he said, rubbing his aching cock through the hair on Severus’s chest.

Severus then tumbled him over. “Don’t you dare come,” he hissed in Harry’s ear. “If you do, I shall have to punish you.”

Harry shivered and grinned. “Oh yes, Master Snape. Please.”

“Brat,” Severus said in mock severity. “If you can hold back.”

“I can hang on if you can,” Harry said with a strain, “but get on with it.”

Severus rolled over for the small jar in the drawer beside the bed and opened it. He leaned over, and again favoured Harry with another long kiss.

“Ooh yes,” Harry breathed as he felt Severus’s warm, slick fingers circling his opening. He squirmed with anticipation. “Get on with it.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve done this. And I promised to open you slowly.”

“There’s slow and loving, and then there’s torture. Do it.”

Severus took his time, despite Harry’s protestations. Harry gasped when Severus applied a small bite to his nipple. “Yes, please, more!”

As one finger, two fingers worked into his body, and Severus’s hot mouth suckled each nipple Harry’s mind spiraled out of control with the overpowering sensations. A month of deprivation made him nearly mad with need. He pushed every inch of his body to the man’s touch, so desirous he was to feel. And right now, every place being touched was brought to life, sizzling with want.

Finally, Harry felt the familiar nudge of the tip of Severus’s cock against him. “I apologize if—”

“Hush! Now, do it.”

And then the delicious burn spread through Harry’s body—it felt so good to be united with his beloved again. Severus moved slowly, drawing out the full length then easing it in again; long, unhurried strokes massaged every nerve. When he angled up and found that lovely place, Harry saw stars, gasping at the contact.

“Oh god, that’s—it’s too—amazing…Love you…”

At that point, Severus sped up; Harry thought he growled, but he wasn’t sure, so lost he was in his own senses.

“Ah, yes, oh yes,” he heard Severus say deeply as he came with a shudder. “Oh yes.”

Harry reached between them, stroking his cock. As Severus grunted, Harry’s orgasm overtook him. He, too, gasped as he rode the waves of luscious sensation, milking himself of every drop. Severus continued his rhythmic thrusting, encouraging Harry’s orgasm along.

After what seemed a luscious eternity, they stopped moving, but remained joined. Harry and Severus kissed leisurely and deeply, enjoying the wondrous touch of the other. Even when Severus reluctantly withdrew, he pulled Harry close to his chest, his hand lazily traveling everywhere on Harry’s body.

Harry snuggled into the warmth, and sighed. Perhaps there was something to the purity aspect of the ancient custom. He was eager to see if the sex would be just as mind-blowing a second time that night, and giggled at the thought.

“Did you just giggle?”

“Yes, I did. And I deserve it,” Harry said.

“I don’t think I’m going to ask why.”

“Well, you’re about to find out.”

*~*  
_  
”I reckon the old man was right.”_

_“Hurts like hell to be proven wrong, doesn’t it, Prongs?”_

_“Just a bit.”_  
  
As the night turned to morning, a light, warm breeze drifted over two dark-haired heads-- one now streaked with shining silver strands, the other tousled and soft. Hands of those long-gone but always beloved ghosted over the sleeping figures, bestowing upon them loving touches of remembrance and acceptance. Harry rolled over and threw a leg over Severus’s thigh, who pulled him closer with a sigh. And with one last kiss, the air stilled.

It was a new day.

*~*


End file.
